Hooked on a Feeling
by Pink Tinted Monocle
Summary: After Jimmy Kent finally confesses his love for Thomas Barrow, Thomas finds that he can barely stop smiling. Cavity inducing super fluff for all of your Thommy shipping needs.


**Saccharine sweet cavity inducing super fluff based on a cheesy 80's pop song for all of your Thommy shipping needs. **

**I have no excuses for this.**

**The song is _Hooked on a Feeling_ by Blue Swede.**

**Hooked on a Feeling**

_Hooked on a feeling_

_I'm high on believing_

_That you're in love with me_

It was a warm evening in early July when Jimmy Kent finally confessed his love for Thomas Barrow. The family were staying in London and there had been another fair in Thirsk, so (after much coaxing from Mrs Hughes), Mr Carson had agreed to let the staff attend for a few hours.

Jimmy had stayed close to Thomas the whole day, trotting happily beside the brunette as they wound their way through the crowds of fair goers and chattering idly about a new play that was opening in York. Thomas had suggested that they have a go at the coconut shy – Jimmy lost all three of the games he paid for and huffily declared that it was 'all fixed anyhow' – a theory Thomas had quickly disproved when he won on his first try. Thomas had given his coconut to a pouting Jimmy before taking him for a consolation drink.

After a few pints of cider, Jimmy had suggested they go for a walk. The blonde had led the way, coconut clutched to his chest, and before Thomas had realised where they were headed they were standing by the bridge were Thomas had been beaten.

"You saved me here", Jimmy had stated as he chewed his lip, brow furrowed. "I suppose that it was then that I knew, really."

"Knew wha-", Thomas had began to ask, but before he could finish the question Jimmy had grabbed hold of his hand, pulled him under the cover of the bridge and smashed their mouths together. Somewhat in shock, Thomas hadn't responded until Jimmy had made a disgruntled little noise and nipped at the older man's bottom lip, causing Thomas to regain just enough brain functionally to kiss Jimmy softly back.

When the kiss ended, Jimmy had stared up at Thomas with wide eyes and a determined expression. "I love you", he had said in a small voice. "God knows I've tried not to, but I _do. _And I just needed to tell you, because it's been drivin' me bloody mad."

They had stood in silence for a while, Thomas opening and closing his mouth like a guppy without producing any actual sound, while Jimmy just stared at him expectedly. Eventually, Jimmy had pinched his arm. "Say something Thomas, please."

Behind Jimmy, Thomas suddenly noticed the coconut – Jimmy had dropped it when he had grabbed Thomas, and it had since been steadily rolling towards the small stream, into which it then dropped with a faint plop.

"Your coconut is getting away.", Thomas replied numbly.

"_What?"_

"Your coconut. It's going downriver. It'll probably be in York by the end of the day."

Jimmy's expectant expression had quickly transformed to one of complete incomprehension, but thankfully Thomas' mental facilities had chosen that moment to start functioning properly again, and he had added, "Oh, and I love you too. Of _course _I do. I've always loved you, Jimmy."

A wide grin had spread across Jimmy's face, and he had pulled Thomas down for another kiss. "Good", he had mumbled against Thomas' lips. "And it's probably for the best."

"What is?"

"Losin' the coconut. What are you even supposed to do with one of the those bloody things?"

Thomas had laughed – a rare, genuine laugh – and pulled Jimmy in for another kiss. And as they had walked back to the fair together, Thomas found that he couldn't help but smile.

In fact, Thomas soon discovered that he could barely _stop _smiling at all. His daily life, which had seemed so dull and oppressive when he thought he was destined to live an existence of loveless solitude, now seemed fascinatingly bright. People were suddenly less annoying – even Mr Bates. Now when he talked to his co-workers it was with a grin rather than a grimace, while sarcasm was replaced (mostly) by sincerity. When Miss Baxter had announced her inevitable engagement to Mr Molesley with a challenging look in her eyes, Thomas had simply smiled and wished her all the best. The act of making other people miserable had somewhat lost its appeal now that he no longer was.

Even his professional poker face, which he had carefully honed over the years, threatened to slip – at dinner service when he and Jimmy stood opposite each other, Thomas had to force himself to avoid catching the blonde's eye – because he knew that if he did, Jimmy would give him _that _look – the one that Thomas now knew was reserved especially for him – and he would have to bite his cheek to stop his lips from curving up into a soppy smile.

One evening when Thomas was alone in the servant's hall, reading the paper and humming a new tune that Jimmy had taken a fancy to, Doctor Clarkson had entered the room. Thomas had greeted him pleasantly and had asked if there was anyone he was looking for in particular. The doctor had shot him a wary look and cleared his throat somewhat louder than necessary.

"Ah, yes, it was actually you that I came to see, Mr Barrow."

"Me, Doctor Clarkson?"

"Yes. You see, Mr Barrow, it has been bought to my attention that – ah, do you mind if I take a seat?". Thomas had gestured to the chair opposite him. "Thank you. As I was saying, I have been informed that you haven't – ah – quite - been yourself of late, and that it would perhaps be prudent of me to perform a standard check up, just to be on the safe side."

"Well, I don't know who've you've been talking to, Doctor Clarkson, but I can assure you that, at least to my own knowledge, I am in perfect health.", Thomas replied amicably. "But if you think that a check up is advisable, I would be happy to comply."

Doctor Clarkson had raised his eyebrows as if this had not been the answer he was expecting. "It's very good of you to be so agreeable, Mr Barrow."

"I do try, Doctor."

"Ah – of course. We'd best get on then – tell me, Mr Barrow, have you been sleeping well of late?"

On the mention of sleep, Thomas' mind had travelled back to the events of the previous night – Jimmy, perched on the edge of his dresser while Thomas knelt between his legs, lips wrapped around Jimmy's cock and sneaking glances up at the footman to see the pleasure etched across his endlessly expressive face. Afterwards - wrapped in each other's arms - they had fallen into a deep slumber disturbed only by the alarm clock set just early enough to allow Thomas to sneak back to his own room before the rest of the staff woke up. Thomas couldn't help but grin at the recollection.

"Yes, Doctor, I must that that I've been sleeping very well, especially of late."

Doctor Clarkson's frown deepened. "I see. And how are you eating? Have you felt off your food at all?"

The memory of an evening several weeks previously, when Jimmy had swiped a bowl of butter cream from the kitchen, surfaced in Thomas' mind. They had spent an increasingly messy night taking it in turns to slather each other in the sweet, sticky substance and slowly lick each other clean.

"Not at all, Doctor.", Thomas responded, grin widening. An image of Jimmy spread out before him, naked and wanting, flashed before his eyes. "In fact, I would say that I have a very good appetite at the moment."

Doctor Clarkson had surveyed Thomas' smiling face with a worried expression. "And you haven't felt unwell in any other regard?"

"No, Doctor", Thomas had beamed. Doctor Clarkson seemed even more concerned.

"I see. Well, it wouldn't hurt to run a few tests, just to make sure. When is your next half day, Mr Barrow? I'll make you an appointment at the hospital..."

When the time came that year for Thomas to write his annual letter to his cousin in Bombay, he wrote the same old schpeel he always did – how he was perfectly fine and that life at Downton couldn't be better – but for the first time in over ten years, he actually meant it. Just before he sealed the envelope he had had a thought, and pulled the notepaper back out to add a postscript. "P.S.", it read, "What exactly do you do with a coconut?"

Their first Christmas together was like a dream. Time off was usually scarce during the festive period, but somehow Thomas and Jimmy managed to get the same half-day in early December. They had caught an early train to York and found a room in a discreet boarding house that just wanted money in the till and didn't ask too many questions. Thomas had paid a little extra for the landlord to bring food and drink straight up to their room, and they had spend a blissful day in each others arms, eating too much and drinking too much and fucking too much.

On Christmas night, they had exchanged presents in Thomas' room. Jimmy had presented Thomas with a silver cigarette case, claiming proudly that he had bought it with money he had won in a game of poker down the pub. Thomas had given Jimmy a small pocket watch ("So you can actually be on time for once"), and a deck of cards with painted pictures of exotic looking cities on the back. "Oh!", Thomas had exclaimed. "I almost forgot. I got a reply from my cousin in Bombay the other day that I think you'll want to read." Thomas had rooted around in his dresser for the letter before passing it to Jimmy. The footman had read it with a frown.

"_Milk? _You _milk _a coconut? What, like a cow?"

"Well, I imagine that are some differences", Thomas had responded dryly. "Most coconut's don't come equipped with a set of udders."

Jimmy had pinched him hard on the thigh, but before Thomas could protest Jimmy had yanked down his pyjama bottoms and pulled them both backwards onto the bed. Afterwards, they had spread Jimmy's new playing cards suit down across the floor and talked about all the places they would visit and all the things they would do if only they had the money.

At the servant's ball that year it seemed to Thomas that he and Jimmy danced with nearly every woman in Downton before they had a chance to sneak back downstairs together. Jimmy had headed straight for the piano and played a few bars of one of the songs that they had danced to on the gramophone upstairs.

"'...you thrill me, you chill me, with shivers of joy'.. I like that one. Would have been better if it were a live band playing it though."

Thomas had held out a hand. "Care to dance?"

Jimmy's eyes had flicked nervously towards the open doorway, but Thomas had dismissed his concerns with a grin. "The others will be hours yet. We've got plenty of time."

"Alright", Jimmy had begrudgingly agreed, and stepped forward to place his hands on Thomas' waist. "I quite fancy trying that new one that everyone's talkin' about, the Charleston..."

Thomas had laughed. "Perhaps another day when we've had a bit less to drink..."

"Or a bit more", Jimmy had replied.

"Let's try to keep it simple."

"Fine", Jimmy answered with an exaggerated eye roll. "But you're dancin' the girl's part."

"Alright", said Thomas, and as they began to move together across the room he couldn't help but smile.


End file.
